I Am Quinn's Slow Simmering Rage
by SilverKitsune1
Summary: Quinn starts a fight club.


Title: I Am Quinn's Slow Simmering Rage

Description: Quinn starts a fight club.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, dark themes, misogynistic language.

Author's Note:This got Jossed the day after I finished it. Pretend that _Hold Onto Sixteen_ didn't happen yet.

No actual Disney princesses were harmed in the writing of this.

Many thanks go to livejournal users **narceus** and **ladybiue** for their wonderful betas jobs.

**The First Rule of Fight Club Is You Do Not Talk About Fight Club**

**The Second Rule of Fight Club Is You Do Not Talk About Fight Club**

**The Third Rule of Fight Club: If someone says stop, goes limp or taps out the fight is over.**

**Only two people to a fight**

**One fight at a time**

**No shirts No hair clips, no earrings, no shoes **

**Fights will go on as long as they have to**

**If this is your first night at fight club you HAVE to fight**

* * *

><p>Quinn stalks up and down the aisles at Toys R Us slashing the faces of Disney princesses. Their hair gleams in the sunlight, their large eyes blink out into the world like calves ready for slaughter, and she feels ill at the sight of them. All of them are trapped in stories that will never break and never breathe. Just the same useless mumbling that echoes through the dark halls of imaginary castles that Quinn will have to hear about for the rest of her life. She hates Beauty for giving into Stockholm Syndrome, Snow White for marrying a guy with a thing for dead chicks and Sleepy Beauty who did nothing, nothing, nothing for centuries.<p>

The cashier eyes her nervously from the front of the store as Quinn shoves the tip of her safety pin into the plastic skin of a DVD, and tears open the packaging holding _Peter Pan_. She makes quick work of "mother" Wendy then moves onto _The Little Mermaid_. In Quinn's opinions _The Little Mermaid _ is the worst of the bunch. Some stupid girl who trades a voice for bleeding feet and dances for a guy who doesn't even pick her. Quinn's not sure who she's angrier at; Disney for lying about the ending or Hans Christian Anderson for writing the original.

DVD destroyed, she grabs a box that holds Shimmer Princess Ariel, and pops the top open. Ariel's dress glitters in the florescent light, and she is caught between cutting off Ariel's hair or removing the head entirely when one of the assistant managers marches down the aisle.

"If you don't leave," the assistant manager tells her, face flushed and voice not entirely steady. "We're calling the cops."

Quinn tilts her head and gives the woman quick up and down. She's nothing. A poor Lima loser in khaki pants and a faded blue shirt, and Quinn is thinking about how far she's really willing to take any of this when she spots the other woman's name tag. The name "Lucy" is written in large black print across a dirty white surface.

Quinn leaves.

Outside she throws her fist against the side wall. It's not as stupid of an idea as it sounds. In fact when she thinks about it later the picture is only made better by the fact that she's still in a dress, hair blonde, with her gold cross winking in the sunlight. She doesn't break her hand (The bones in a hand are so fragile. So little. She violently pushes away the thought of Beth's tiny perfect fingers and how well they'd fit into her own if she just fought hard enough), but there's damage. The skin around the knuckles is split, and her perfect alabaster complexion is marred. Quinn punches the wall again. The pain that travels up her arm almost makes it go numb, and for one clear moment there's nothing but teeth aching pain. For the first time in months (maybe years) her mind empties.

Hitting walls, punching bags, and ripping pillows apart turned out to be a nice neat outlet for Quinn's aggression─for a while. Coupled with her weekly trip to the library where she writes ''Assholes!' in the margins of_ On The Road, _"Lies" over the ending of _Pride and Prejudice, _anddrops copies of _Twilight_ into the trash, the destruction helps release some of the rage that had been building since Lucy Caboosy got her lunch spat on for the first time.

But then Finn outs Santana, and suddenly she's being asked to help. Help Santana, who has razor blades in her hair, and who spits acid. Santana who Finn sings to, who gets called "perfect," and has Brittany standing by to hold her hand while she falls apart. Meanwhile, Quinn feels like she's been thrown into the middle of the Atlantic ocean (gray, cold and dirty, the ocean in New York was nothing like the turquoise water in the pictures nestled in travel brochures), and no one can be bothered to help.

Her fingers are Sharpie stained, and one of her split knuckles reopens and bleeds as her fist hits the gym bag so hard that it swings out and back. The chain rattles like an angry ghost in the otherwise empty gym. Before she can put a hand up to steady it, the bag bangs into her, and the weight of it shoves Quinn back a few steps. Quinn wraps her arms around the thing, the bag is tall and solid in her arms, and feels the sweat on her forehead slide slowly down her nose. Breathing hard, and alone in the weight room that won't be empty for long, Quinn has a brief clear flash of what needs to come next.

The Skanks are her first target. The lot of them are under the bleachers enjoying the ratty sofa and weather worn cushy chair courtesy of Coach Sylvester, and Quinn approaches them one morning with a hunger that makes her entire body tingle.

"What are you doing back here?" Ronnie asks.

Quinn reels back and punches her in the face. The other girl stumbles away, blood blossoming out of her nose and her eyes screwed shut.

"The fuck?"

The other Skanks jump up, but it's not to swarm Quinn. It's to back away. Their eyes are full of fear and caution, but Quinn holds her ground and waits for Ronnie to swing at her.

"You-you're crazy!" Ronnie holds her nose with one hand with the other outstretched as the blood seeps down her chin. "Stay away!"

Something inside Quinn gnashes its teeth in frustration, and she advances with her fist raised. Like a group of frightened deer the Skanks scatter. Turning around, Quinn stalks away. She should have known they were nothing but frightened little girls hiding in the dark.

Quinn wishes she could skip Glee club. Ask Mr. Schue for a pass to the nurse, ice her throbbing hand and lie down, but just because the Skanks proved to be a dead end doesn't mean she's throwing her idea away. If anything she should have started with New Directions first.

Once upon a time she would have just called Santana out, but the crackle of raging energy that usually surrounded Santana seemed to be on simmer. Mercedes may have worked before she started blossoming in the Troubletones, but now she walks around practically glowing with pride and self-assurance. Quinn dismisses Rachel immediately, Brittany would just tell her to "stop the violence" and she's thinking about checking on Lauren Zizes when Tina breaks down and starts sobbing half way through attempted solo number 394.

Quinn has a winner.

In the parking lot of the high school that night, Quinn takes a drag off a cigarette that she doesn't enjoy, and waits. Leaning against Tina's car while the rest of the club is either at home or attending Booty Camp, she stays in the cloud of ash and nicotine mostly for appearance's sake, and hopes that this time she'll be successful.

"I thought you gave that up." Tina's voice cuts through the chilly night air. "It's bad for your voice, and your lungs."

Quinn drops the cigarette and grounds the butt out with the heel of her shoe.

"Quinn, do you need a ride home?" Tina asks her eyes filled with worry.

Quinn shrugs. "No. I just wanted to talk to you."

She walks forward until the two of them were almost nose-to-nose. Tina shifts trying to angle her body away. Quinn halts the move with a hand on the other girl's shoulder.

"I want to know if you'll teach me how to be comfortable with being a slut," she says.

Tina blinks. "Huh?"

Quinn tilts her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. "'Huh'? That's what you have for me? I was actually expect a 'w-w-w-what?'"

"What are you talking about?" Tina asks.

She steps back, but Quinn just follows. "Sorry, just remembering better days. I want to know how you can parade around feeling no shame while you open your legs for Mike at any moment of the day. You don't seem to feel upset about becoming a used-up whore, and I'd like you to teach me that."

"Stop it," Tina says.

"Stop what?" Quinn asks, her tone airy. "We're both in the same boat. We're like flowers with no petals left. Remember that assembly? At least I only did it once, and I have the decency to be ashamed of it. You on the other hand...don't you get how this works? Men don't need to respect women like us. Mike's probably given the entire football team a blow-by-blow. How you look naked. Your noises- "

The slap is hard and Quinn's cheek stings, but there are no rings on Tina's fingers today so there's no cut to accompany the hit.

"There is nothing wrong with me for liking sex," Tina hisses. "It's _my _bodyand_ my _life. Just because you're a hypocrite who couldn't even take the time to grab a condom doesn't mean you get to call me names or tell lies about my boyfriend!"

"You're such a waste of space." Quinn shoves her. They're so close. She can feel it. "Can't even properly punch me. You've got to turn this into the kind of thing Puck probably Googles for when he's looking for porn. Stupid chicks slap fighting each other. That's what you're making us into right now, Tina! Porn!"

The punch Tina throws is sloppy, and she lets out an undignified squawk when it connects with Quinn's jaw. Quinn's head is thrown back and her hand goes up to her mouth. She bit her tongue, but luckily not straight through. It hurts more than Quinn thought it would.

Tina stands before her, the moon burning, and full above their heads. Her hand is cradled against her chest, and her face is flushed. The air stumbles out of her mouth in quick shallow pants.

Quinn lunges. She wraps her arm tight around Tina's waist and takes them both to the pavement. The slide puts a tear through her buttercup yellow baby-doll dress.

She punches Tina in the side, and is pulling back for one to her face when Tina lunges up and sinks her teeth into Quinn's neck. Quinn shrieks and pulls back which gives Tina enough time to shove her off and scramble to her feet.

"I am not a waste of space!" Tina shouts. "There is nothing wrong with me!"

Quinn is breathing hard. She stays on the ground, and wonders if Tina will try to kick her.

"Yeah. I know," Quinn says. "You're not any of those things."

Quinn's is pretty sure the bite didn't break the skin. Her fingers find the bruise, and run along Tina's teeth marks. They've both got scratches and cuts, and Quinn think there might be some gravel that she'll be fishing out of her knee later.

"I was just trying to get a rise out of you," Quinn says. "You seemed like you might have needed to hit something, and you wouldn't have done it if I'd asked." She smiles. "Who knew you were a biter?"

Tina's body jerks, and her eyes fall to Quinn's neck. Her mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

"What?" Quinn asks.

A laugh tumbles out of Tina's body. It's no high pitched giggle, just a long loud laugh that Quinn hopes doesn't become hysterical.

"I'm- I feel-" Tina stops.

Quinn smooths the cloth of her torn dress, and tightly wraps it around her knees. "You feel?"

Tina tips her head back and takes a long breath of the night air, pulling the starlight and the burning moon and the cold into her lungs. "Yeah."

They hold it on Sundays, a holy day for holy purging, under the bleachers that are across the field from the ones the Skanks occupy. The Lima cops hardly ever monitor the school anymore, and Quinn likes the chill of the breeze on her exposed skin. She likes the way it weaves through her hair and leaves it tangled and messy. Above them stars pulse throughout the Ohio sky. They're the only advantage to living outside of a place with a million street lights. Those stars were the worst loss of their few nights in New York, other than knowing that somewhere in the city Finn and Rachel had been together burning brightly while Quinn waited in the dark.

She thinks about holding it in the choir room. There's something delightfully wrong about the idea of their semi-safe space slicked down with blood and sweat, but in the end it's the linoleum that makes the decision for her. Too slippery.

Tina and Quinn wait together. If no one shows up they'll just go at one another again, but they haven't been waiting more than 15 minutes when two girls in Cheerios letterman jackets appear. They're freshman, or at least they must be since Quinn doesn't recognize them, and Becky Jackson is with them.

Quinn can feel something ripping at the back of her throat coming up like vomit, and her words are hot and angry as they fly from her mouth."No. Are you kidding? I'm not going to hit you! No one else is going to hit you! You can't have a fight club if no one is hitting each other, and everyone has to fight!"

Becky shakes her head so that her blond hair covers her face, like a veil like a shadow, before quickly shifting away. There's a sweep of headlights from the parking lot, and the light reflects off Becky's glasses so Quinn doesn't see her expression for a moment.

"_No one_ is going to hit me," Becky agrees. "I don't need this."

She holds up a flyer torn at the top like someone ripped it off the peg in a hurry. The words _Fight Club_ area typed across it in 36 point italicized Arial font. Their location is in smaller font along the bottom.

Quinn snatches it away, and then turns to glare at Tina.

Tina bites her lip and looks away. "Sorry?"

Quinn shakes her head, and turns her attention back to Becky and the two Cheerios.

"I won't save you again," Becky warns.

"Fine. Whatever," Quinn says. "They can stay, but no one goes easy on them just because they're Cheerios. That isn't how this works."

Becky shrugs. "They're not my problem. Coach kicked them off the squad this morning."

As Becky's footsteps fade away, Quinn grins wolfishly at the two nervous looking newcomers.

They don't make any effort to keep the bruises off their faces. Quinn is sickly fascinated at seeing the teachers avert their eyes from cheeks colored in fantastic shades of purple and mustard yellow. Green and blue hand prints around their arms, and black-eyes that have swollen shut.

_It seems like they gain an ex-Cheerio every week. Product of coach's random cutting policy. Little lost girls in letterman jackets with nowhere to go. They always go for the eyes first. It's stupid, but they learn._

The game gets even more interesting when she sees how well the lies go over. "I fell down some stairs. Ran into a door last night. Got hit in the face with a dodge-ball in gym. This isn't blood. It's cherry slushie"

_Sunshine __Corazon__ upper-cuts Tina and then leaps onto her so the two of them are a wiggling pair on the ground. She is their first non McKinley member, but not their last._

Mr. Schue doesn't believe them, but doesn't push. "Girls if you ever need to talk with someone I'm always here."

_The girl from __Crawford County Day who drove the three hour distance, and went from a shy little wall- flower in a plaid skirt to a shrieking valkyrie over the course of a month. Quinn never does learn her name._

Ms Pillsbury and Coach Beiste are harder to shake. They pull Tina into Ms Pilsbury's office during lunch one day. Tina smiles wide to show off the blood still trapped in her teeth, and Ms Pillsbury drops her pamphlet and almost doesn't make it to the wastepaper basket before she hurls.

_Sugar comes once. Watches, and when Quinn tells her she has to fight runs in the opposite direction. _

Coach Sylvester looks long and hard at her before smiling, slapping Quinn on the back and saying "Nice to know you girls are getting away from the television. All sort of bad messages for young women."

_Brittany finds her way back into Artie's arms, and suddenly Santana is there pulling Quinn's hair out by the roots, and howling in Spanish._

The day Kurt sees Quinn with two black eyes his face goes from blank to furious before smoothing over into his usual icy mask so quickly that Quinn thinks she imagines it. It's nice, but it's too late for Kurt to play white knight. When telling him she's fine doesn't work she finds a better way to shake him.

_Quinn shouts for an import from Vocal Adrenaline to stop, and they both go limp._

"_Next week?" Quinn pants. She holds a hand out for the other girl to shake._

"_Try next month."_

_They hug. It's a little weird._

Quinn plops down next to Blaine one day in Glee, and picks the dried blood from under her fingernails.

He opens his mouth to speak, but before the words tumble out Quinn shows off her bruises from her "Intense Zumba class," and asks him if he's ever had a bruise that color.

Blaine goes from concerned and worried to fidgeting nervously with his bow-tie. He tries to steer the conversation in a different direction, but Quinn flicks a bit of the gunk from under her nail at him and smiles sweetly before asking if his family will be coming to sectionals. She'd noticed that they never did make it to_ West Side Story_.

She should feel awful, but Blaine's discomfort is making something yawn and stretch inside of her. It helps that she'd noticed Blaine's uncanny resemblance to Prince Eric, and Quinn wonders if Blaine has ever asked anyone to give up their voice for him. When Kurt finally appears, he pulls his paling boyfriend across the room, and far away from her. He doesn't come near her again.

_Suzie Pepper rabbit kicks Sunshine across the pavement. Sunshine misses hitting her head on a pole by inches. They move it to the middle of the track with the lights on them._

Mike is their biggest problem. The lies they spin don't work, and he refuses to be frightened away. He follows Tina from class to class eying jocks and bullies, and begging her to talk to him. His huge puppy-dog eyes grow darker and angrier at every new scratch and broken finger Tina acquires. Quinn thinks Mike might need to be dealt with soon.

_Artie and Brittany break up. Santana and Brittany get back together. Santana doesn't come back._

It's not just the fighting that makes Quinn ache for Sunday nights. It's the energy. She'd first tasted something like it when she was dancing and singing in New Directions. Between the music and the energy of the crowd she could get lost with the other glee club members. She'd love it when their voices came together to build harmonies and melodies. Fight Club is different of course. The tastes in her mouth are more like shadows and copper, and less like glitter and gold, but the euphoria has the same kind of outline to it.

As much as she loves the fight club, though, it's still not completely what Quinn wants. To get that Quinn needs Shelby to appear. It's a scenario she plays out in her head some nights when she can't sleep. The one where she gives Shelby one solid smack to the jaw. One elbow to the ribs. One boob punch. One stomach slam. She wants it so badly it makes her ache inside.

Unfortunately, it's not Shelby but Rachel who shows up one Sunday night. Her eyes are brimming with tears, and for the first time in a long time she's in a pair of jeans. Rachel has to push through a crowd of people to get to the front (Becky had been right. They didn't need a flyer. Not at this school), but it seems that nothing will stop her from getting to Quinn.

"What happened to you?" Quinn asks.

"Shelby's been fired," Rachel sobs. "She's been sleeping with Puck. My letter of recommendation is worthless!"

"Shame," Quinn says. "If you want to stay you have to fight."

Rachel looks around at the group of girls. The tears escape her eyes and race down her face.

"I-you or one of them?"

Quinn kicks her shoes off and pulls a barrette out of her hair. "Me. Take your belt off."

Rachel is worthless. A tiny insect that can has barely any weight behind her throws. She goes for Quinn's hair. She's sloppy, and the elbow to Quinn's ribs is accidental. Still, Quinn's feeling generous, and pulls the punch to Rachel's stomach, though not so generous that she pulls the punch to Rachel's face. Rachel tips back and Quinn wraps her arms around her to pull her close.

"One day," Quinn whispers in her ear. "You're going to be just like her."

Rachel shoves her hard, and Quinn goes sprawling across the dirt. She gets a full look at the unclouded sky above full of stars before Rachel Berry is on top of her, a face smudged with tears and dirt and a kind of rage that Quinn is oh so familiar with.

It's not exactly what Quinn wants, but it's close enough.


End file.
